


What You Hear Is Not The Sea

by ciaan



Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-18
Updated: 2010-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-07 08:51:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciaan/pseuds/ciaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you don't talk about it, then it's not gay. For the kink_bingo "silence" prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Hear Is Not The Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to afrocurl for looking it over. And possibly when I take my titles from song lyrics I should stop using such obscure songs.

It's a lazy slow summer afternoon, the heat ringing with the sound of cicadas, occasionally interrupted by a passing car. Tim is the hero of the day because they're looking at a magazine he swiped from Billy's stash. A magazine, you know, _that_ kind. They're sitting at the foot of Jason's bed, the slick pages spread across both their laps.

There's a whole series of photos of a redhead with huge tits splayed out across a motorcycle and getting boned by various guys. Tim knows it's working for him and he can hear that Jason's breathing shallow, too. He doesn't dare look away from the magazine to see if Jason's as hard as he is.

Jason flops down onto his back, leaving Tim's right side suddenly cool, air reaching the thin sheen of sweat along his ribs. Tim follows and drops beside him, pressed tight again from knee to shoulder, lifting the magazine up where they can see it. Their elbows knock as Jason reaches up with both hands and turns the page, then drops his right hand again.

The clink that comes with Jason shifting against him makes Tim automatically glance over, and he sees Jason unsnapping his fly. He looks away again, staring up at the smooth white of the ceiling instead, letting the magazine fall down beside him. He's seen Jason naked a thousand times before, in the locker room or down at the swimming hole, but that's different.

Jason doesn't say anything and Tim can't breathe a word, either. He hears the hiss of the zipper and the crinkle of denim being pushed aside, feels his heart thumping in his ribs. Jason's left arm is crushed against Tim's right, Jason's chest rising and falling unevenly next to him.

Tim can actually hear the dry slide of skin on skin when Jason grips his dick. That's what pushes him to move, to reach down and open his belt buckle, open his pants and grab his own.

He grips tight and pulls slow. Even without looking he can tell the difference in that, hear Jason moving fast and light. His own breath sounds harsh and hissing in his ears, with Jason's softer, dragging Tim deeper into it. The roof of Tim's mouth is dry and itchy.

Tim's hips rock up, the press of his thumb against the tip of his dick sending a fuzz of sensation through his veins. There's a gust of hot air across his ear that makes him shiver, realizing it's Jason breathing on him. Tim lets his head slide sideways until his cheek is resting on the bed, strands of hair trapped under it. He can't actually see Jason like this, their faces too close, everything just a pale blue blur from Jason's eyes.

Jason's breath gusts across Tim's mouth, hot and damp. Tim can taste it when he inhales, slightly stale air, but that's okay. That's how it's always been. Jason's a star, and if Tim sticks close enough he might reflect some of the glow himself. Might feed off what Jason creates.

And now Jason's breathing in what Tim exhales, the air passing back and forth equally between both of them.

Jason moves his left arm, threading it up through Tim's right, and Tim can feel each muscle working as Jason starts jerking himself with that hand. Biceps, triceps, deltoid, and Jason's heartbeat pounding against Tim's pulse where Tim's upper arm rests on his chest. Tim clenches his own left hand even tighter, fingers digging into Jason's bedspread.

All Tim can hear is the hush of his own blood in his ears, surging and ringing. All he can see is the blue of Jason's eyes. All he can feel is the solid hot line of Jason's body pressed against him, Jason's hips thrusting beside him.

Jason is panting harder now, like the end of a rough game, and his eyes drop closed, Tim's following a moment later, leaving him staring at red darkness. Their lungs rise and fall in rapid unison. Jason's breath is hotter and closer on Tim's mouth. Tim squeezes his dick tighter and jerks himself nearer.

Jason moans and twitches, arm and hips flexing, holding himself tensed. Tim gives one last pull on his dick and spurts into his fingers. The rush through his body makes his ears hum even louder and he gasps, blindly searching with his tongue and biting down on the soft skin pressed against his mouth. He only realizes when he relaxes and releases it that it's Jason's lower lip.

The ceiling is calm and simple to look at again as they lie there for a moment longer.

Then Jason sits up, unlacing his arm from Tim's, their sticky fingers sliding and tangling together for an instant.

"Jay..." Tim whispers.

"S'okay, Timmy," Jason answers. He grabs a bunch of tissues from the bedside table, passing some to Tim. "Hey, you want a snack?"

Tim nods and wipes his hands clean.


End file.
